


Signs Taken for Wonders

by laisserais, thatotherperv



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism, not exactly an orgy but kind of an orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-05
Updated: 2008-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laisserais/pseuds/laisserais, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/pseuds/thatotherperv
Summary: Co-written smut in honor of the Fourth of July.  Don't ask us why Chris has a house in Canada or why this particular group of people ended up hanging out, cuz we don't know.  [ok, meretrix has a theory about Chris visiting for the summer (because he misses Jensen) and getting a long-term rental and…sure, why not?  thatotherperv says: Yours is not to ask why, but to porn.  To porn and porn and porn until you can't porn any longer.]  Basically, the set-up was just a good excuse to make a little PWP.





	Signs Taken for Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from LJ. Originally posted 7/5/2008 (!)

  
**Title** : Signs Taken for Wonders  
**Authors** : [](http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/)**thatotherperv** and me  
**Pairings** : Chris/Jensen, non-explicit Tom/Mike, DB/Himself  
**Rating** : NC-17  
**Length** : about 2500 words

 

* * *

  


**Signs Taken for Wonders**

"They do shit like this on Canada Day?"

Jensen smirked at Chris and looked around the empty backyard. "Get smashed off cheap beer?"

Chris shrugged. "Yeah. And cook brisket. Blow shit up."

"I'm pretty sure Canadians are firmly against blowing shit up."

"Damned Canadians, too polite for explosions. No wonder they still take orders from England."

"They make some pretty good beer, though. Does that win them any points?"

"Molson can't hold a candle to Shiner. You try and convince me different and I'll personally revoke your Texas citizenship."

"I oughta beat your ass just for putting Shiner in the same _class_ as Molson, so you can take my Texas citizenship and shove it up your—"

"Jesus," Mike said to no one in particular, "Did I accidentally come to a showdown at the OK Corral?"

Chris poked him with a barbecue fork. "Shut it, Yankee, or no food for you."

Mike put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Just let me know when the cavalry shows up."

"Hey, you're the one who's supposed to keep track of Welling." Jensen took the bag out of Mike's hand and looked inside. "Dude. You brought _corn_?"

"You said we had to represent, right? Stake out a little bit of America in this godforsaken wilderness. I brought corn, Tom's bringing the apple pie."

Jensen laughed and Chris shook his fork at both of them. "Now all we need is the fireworks and we got ourselves a proper Fourth of July."

A voice from the patio door floated over the deck. "Will Roman Candles be alright?"

Chris turned to eye Dave. "Can always count on you to go off like a rocket, darlin'."

Dave shut the door behind him, nodding at Chris. "Yeah, nothing's worse than paying for a bottle rocket, but ending up with a sparkler, huh Chris?"

Chris blew him a kiss and Mike ran over to inspect the goods. "Dave, my man! How the hell did you sneak these bad boys over the border?"

"I blew the customs official."

Chris snorted.

"Daaayum," Mike said, "I didn't know Angel swung that way."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Everybody knows Angel swung that way, dipshit."

"I'm just saying, puts a whole new spin on the way you and Lindsey used to glare at one another."

"You're one to talk, Lex."

"Wait so lemme get this straight: Me and Tom. Me and Jen. Jen and Tom. Dave and Chris.... Is there anybody here who _hasn't_ fucked?"

Jensen and Chris shared a furtive look.

Dave chortled as he ransacked the cooler. "You all got too much free time up here. That—" He turned around and caught the look Chris gave Jensen— "Or you forgot to leave the soap opera at the office."

Chris checked the heat on the grill, made sure the burgers wouldn't burn while the brisket stayed raw. "Alright ladies, who wants what? I got dogs, ribs, burgers—"

Mike chimed in, "I think we've established that there's plenty of meat to go around tonight."

"Somebody saying this is a sausagefest?" Tom lifted the bag in his hands. "Where do I put the pie and the...why do they call it 'a la mode?' It's not like you ever call it 'mode' by itself."

"Don't hurt yourself there, Tom. Stick it all in the kitchen for now."

"C'mon, I'll show you where," Mike said.

Chris watched Tom follow Mike back inside. "S'it that hard to figure out it's the room with the big fuckin' refrigerator?"

Jensen smirked. "No. But you should probably disinfect your counters later."

Chris groaned. "Good thing this place has housekeeping. Get over here and take over, I need another beer."

"Yes, sir. Maybe it's time for a little nap, don't want you gettin' cranky with a house full of guests."

"Like I could nap through the floorshow. You're just better at all this cooking crap."

Jensen laughed. "Right, like you'd ever admit that if you didn't want something from me."

Chris looked up and caught the way Jensen's ears went red when he realized what he'd said. He gave Jen an appreciative once-over and grinned.

"Trade you sexual favors for meat."

Dave snorted. "Still out here, by the way. But don't let me stop you. I'd just appreciate it if you didn't get spunk on my hot dog."

Chris handed the barbecue fork off to Jensen. "Oh, I know what you'd appreciate, old man."

He cracked open a beer and kicked back next to Dave on the bench. The sun was starting to set; they'd have just enough time to eat before complete darkness took over. Chris leaned closer to Dave, hoping to get a glimpse inside the house. The living room was dark, but there was a light on in the kitchen. He shuddered.

Poor housekeeper. He'd have to up her tip.

"So," Dave said, "you really gonna go for it?"

He threw Dave a silent look, watched the way Jensen listened for his answer without turning. His shoulders were just a little tense, his movements unnatural. If Jared were here, he'd glare at Chris for jerking Jenny around, and probably punch Dave for rubbing it in. But Jared was in LA with his girl, and anyway, Chris was maybe serious.

Jensen had been waiting for him to take an interest for years. Not that he'd ever been _dis_ interested.

"Maybe," he said, just loud enough. "Depends on Jenny."

At that, Jensen dropped the bottle of lighter fluid he'd been holding and Dave coughed, covering a laugh. Jen turned to glare at them as he picked it up and Dave leaned back, stretched out his legs. "So how about it, Jenny? You gonna tap that tonight? I can tell you from personal experience, it's worth all his yapping."

Jensen hardly spared a glance at Dave. He held Chris's eyes for one oxygen-sucking moment and then turned back to the grill, doing his best to appear casual. Chris could see his hand was shaking as he flipped the burgers.

"Maybe I don't want to be the one doing the tapping."

Dave hooted and gouged Chris with his elbow.

All the breath whooshed out of him, and he was more than a little hard. He took a moment to collect himself, staring at the back of Jensen's head, which was held high, his back a straight line. Damn but the boy was fine.

"Dave, you're a real dick, you know that?"

Dave was still laughing, but he managed to say, "Oh baby, you know it. Nothing but one hundred percent, Grade A."

Chris took a long swig of his beer, stood up and walked down the stairs to the lawn. "Come help me set up the fireworks. You know this shit's worth a felony in Canada."

* * *

"Dude, Dave is one crazy sonuvabitch. He's gonna burn his eyebrows off."

There was something like awe there, in the place of good sense. Only Mike.

Chris took a swig of beer and looked at Jen from the corner of his eye. He'd pulled up a piece of lawn right nearby, but he hadn't looked at him since. His attention strayed back to Dave, a dark shadow armed with a lighter.

"I guess when he ends up horribly disfigured, they can say Booth got injured in the line of duty."

Mike cackled in delight. "Yes! Next week on _Bones_ : Booth is tragically maimed saving Temperance! She finally sees his startling inner beauty!"

"Startling inner beauty, my ass," Chris said, "Booth might as well be Angel with a 'roid problem."

"I can totally hear you, by the way," Dave yelled from across the lawn.

"Keep your eyes on the prize, son, or you're gonna end up with nine fingers."

Chris was acutely aware of the way Jensen had started to shift closer to his side and when he finally glanced over, Jensen nodded subtly toward Mike. Chris cleared his throat.

"Hey Mike, where's your better half? He's gonna miss all the excitement."

Mike was oblivious. "Tom? He's prolly in the shitter. Last time we had burgers, the pansy bastard had the runs all night. Little does everyone know that Superman has the constitution of one of those uh. Those." Chris stared as Mike snapped. "What's the name of that little rodent that—"

The smack to the back of his bald head echoed across the yard. Dave looked up and laughed. "Mike? Go. Away."

Mike blinked. Stared at Jensen, who was once again trying to look absorbed in Dave's antics. Chris could see the exact moment he put two and two together and got _third wheel_. "Wow, really? We thought you were never gonna—"

Chris kicked him and he went stumbling off.

Dave shook his head, gesturing at the fireworks like they were an especially annoying guest star, and Chris felt Jensen scootch up closer to him.

Without taking his eyes off of Dave (and how the fuck, he thought, did he end up being grateful for _Dave's_ tact?) he said, "So. Maybe you don't wanna be the one doing the tapping, huh?"

Jensen coughed out a laugh. "You don't beat around the bush, do you? Jesus."

But he didn't sound ready to rabbit, so Chris finally tilted him a look. "Jensen, we been beating around this bush for _years_."

"Speak for yourself."

"Yeah, alright. Had to get my oats all sown."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"Pretty damn well, if I say so myself."

"You got a full crop to harvest."

Chris laughed, more out of nerves than amusement. Shit, this whole entire plan needed a rethink.

"So," he said after a pause, "Where are you at?"

Jensen lifted a brow. "Where am I _at_?"

"...Yeah. You know, like with. Wild oats."

Jensen stared, and Chris tried hard not to fidget. "You are a moron."

"...Excuse me?" Christ, Jensen would _not_ make him blush.

"My oats are fine, you idiot." And then Jensen yanked him close and laid one on him.

Idiot or not, Chris went with it—with him, down to the ground, Jensen's mouth opening up to him and Chris thought: _Finally_.

He tasted just like Chris expected: beer, the tang of barbecue and underneath that, nothing but pure Jensen. Sweet and clean. Chris rolled them over, Jensen's legs on either side of him, and leaned up on his elbows. Jensen opened his eyes when Chris broke the kiss.

"Aren't you supposed to be acting like a shy little thing?" Their mouths were barely apart, the words close and quiet, thick with laughter and something else.

"You were stalling."

"Aw, so you're a _backseat_ driver."

Jen smirked. "Got us where we were going."

Chris wiped the smug right off his face when he sunk his teeth into that lip, scraped 'til Jensen groaned. "I dunno about you, darlin', but I ain't there yet."

Evidently Jensen agreed. Chris felt the hard line of his cock as Jensen bucked up against him. His hands were all over Chris's back, pulling at his shirt, dragging at his belt. God. _Jensen_. His hands were as strong as Chris had imagined they'd be, and he needed to find out if the rest of it was true, too.

With both of them together, they managed to get Chris's belt undone and his pants down to his hips. Jensen's shirt was up around his shoulders, half off and Chris was a second away from getting Jensen's pants off, which was a second too long.

"Whoah man, check that out." Tom's voice was off to their left. Chris peered into the dark, but couldn't make out a shape.

"Probably fireworks," Jensen said.

"Sure, let's just go with that." While he'd been playing lookout, Jensen had wriggled free of his jeans. His hand was _hot_ when it wrapped around their cocks.

"Oh, _Christ_." Chris clenched his jaw and moaned against the fast, unsteady jacking. Too good. He pinned Jensen's hands to the ground and licked into his mouth.

The piercing whine of a rocket taking off behind them told Chris that Dave had managed to work out his toys. Chris opened his eyes as the first burst of light exploded in the sky. Jensen was staring at him, mouth open and panting, eyes gone a little soft, like he was surprised. Chris smiled, bent down, wanting to feel every inch of Jensen's mouth with his own.

Turned out Jensen was a talker. Chris got his knees under him, got a better angle and Jensen pushed up to meet him. His fingers dug into the skin of Chris's back, sliding as they both got sweatier. He was stringing together half-formed words between kisses…things like _fuck_ and _hell yes_ and _faster_ as Chris rocked into him. It took him a while to catch on when half-formed words and clutching fingers took direction and force.

"Wanna suck you...God, Chris...fuck, please, wanna suck you off."

He sure as hell wasn't gonna say no.

He let Jen roll them and panted up at the sky when a hot mouth latched onto his nipple. "Fuck, yeah, c'mon...." Scratched over Jensen's crew cut, shoved him lower.

Sharp teeth at his navel made him twitch, the soft tongue following made him groan. Jensen laughed a low devil's laugh and slid lower. Hot. Hot fucking mouth, Jesus, and that wicked tongue rolling. All the way down, Jensen took him in. Chris felt breath on his balls, a whisper of something, and then he was sucking again. Chris dug his nails into the earth beneath him.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Jen. God." He'd lost it, he was a drooling idiot, all because Jensen fucking Ackles's mouth was made for _sin_. Jensen was moaning as he sucked, lifting Chris's ass, almost forcing him to fuck his face.

Chris panted up to the stars, occasionally outshone by the crackling flares of the fireworks, some closer than others because— _right_ —they weren't alone. He looked over to where Dave had been, and froze.

Because Dave was still there, only now he had company.

Mike and Tom were well on their way to putting on a show of their own as they watched, but Dave was giving them his full attention, a hand down his pants and a lust-fucked look on his face.

Chris propped himself up on his elbows and watched Jensen pull back. At Jensen's questioning look, Chris nodded towards the fucktards. "I think we got an audience."

Jensen's face looked pink in the next flash-bang, eyes straying towards Dave and away. "Let him watch."

Chris laughed. "Yeah?"

"Closest he's ever gonna get."

Chris's laugh turned into a moan as Jensen bent down and went to work.

He shifted his weight onto one hand so he could run his fingers through Jensen's hair, down his neck. Jensen approved, rolling his tongue over the head of his cock as he got up on all fours and started jacking himself off with the same rhythm he used on Chris's cock.

Chris glanced to the side, checking out the effect of Jensen's little performance. Dave had whipped it out, his hand a furious blur, but Mike and Tom had long since given up watching in favor of doing. Dave caught his gaze for a moment, eyes feverish in the light of the next explosion.

Chris turned his attention back to Jensen.

Jensen was flushed, tousled and messy in the intermittent light. He whined around Chris, working himself hard and fast and then his hips jerked forward hard, something Chris felt more than saw. His cheeks hollowed one last time and then his mouth went slack.

Chris was so fucking close. "C'mon, Jen. Fuck, just…."

He was pliant when Chris held his head and thrust, shallow and desperate, 'til he came.

Somewhere off in the distance, a firecracker fizzled out with an unimpressive little sound.

Chris laughed and collapsed back. Figured that with everyone watching, even the damn fireworks had to make some kind of commentary. Jensen didn't seem to mind, crawled up grinning like a fool and darted down for a long, lazy kiss.

"So. How do you think the rest of 'em are doing?"

Both of them looked over and laughed. Tom was sprawled out naked, ass in the air, snoring, and Mike was lighting up a joint. Dave sat between them, pants-free and demanding that Mike not bogart the spliff.

"Happy fucking Fourth." Chris laughed.

Jensen was dead weight above him, head falling back against Chris's shoulder. His breath was warm on Chris's throat and he'd call him on fucking snuggling later, but truth was, it felt good. Took him long enough to get here.

He ran an idle hand over Jen's hair, smiled when Jensen began to cackle. "What?"

"Nothin', man, just. God fuckin' Bless America."


End file.
